


Atlas Stones

by herbivorous_trash



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbivorous_trash/pseuds/herbivorous_trash
Summary: Mako has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. When it’s Bolin‘s turn, he takes the expression a bit more literally.
Relationships: Bolin & Mako (Avatar)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 138





	Atlas Stones

**Author's Note:**

> The recent ATLA resurgence makes my heart so happy, it’s good to see it finally getting the recognition it deserves after all these years. With that said, I’m still relatively new to the LOK side of things but I’m going to try to dip my toes in some Bending Bros love with this. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Updated 12/19/2020

•••

His first moments of semi-consciousness are spent remembering how to breathe.

It would probably help if he asked the platypus-bear that's surely seated on his chest to take a hike. In the distant corners of his mind he wonders if it has a name, if he's lucky maybe it's even friends with Pabu. It's the only plausible explanation because spirits, he doesn't recall breathing being so uncomfortable. He groans into the darkness. _Pabu, could you please ask your friend to move?_

“Bolin?”

_...Pabu?_

The voice is muffled as though on the other side of a wall, but it’s hopeful and so achingly familiar. He isn’t certain how he'll be able to identify it with all of the lights turned off, and then it occurs to him that his eyes are closed. The process of prying them open proves to be yet another chore in which he doesn’t quite have the energy to expend upon. 

“Bolin?” The voice is back again. “Bolin, you with me?”

He groans again. _Just let me sleeeeep..._

"Come on, bro. I really need you to open your eyes for me." Warmth over his hand, the smoothness of worn leather. ”Please, just... spirits, just open your eyes.”

In spite of everything his body is demanding, instinct compels him to obey this probably-not-Pabu voice. His hold on consciousness is a frail one but if he's been taught anything in his short life, it's that persistence is a virtue. Or is it patience? Doesn’t matter. A sliver of light finally cuts through the darkness, and although his world is little more than a blurred swath of color, he’d recognize that spiky mop anywhere. 

Mako exhales sharply, sounding strained.

“Hey, little brother.”

Bolin smiles, or at least he tries to. His brain and body don’t really seem to be on the same page right now. 

It takes him a bit to come back to himself but Mako is patient with him. He always is. As his vision begins to clear, he hazily notes the puffy red rim around his brother's eyes and that certainly can’t be good. He could probably count the number of times he’s seen Mako cry on one hand. Furthermore he looks as though he hasn't slept in days, the sharp angles of his face protruding even more so than normal and Bolin’s heart begins to thrum uneasily in his chest. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s woken up to bad news. At this, the night of their parents’ passing is tugging insistently at his consciousness, but he quickly shoves it back inside its box where it belongs.

He wants to be brave and ask Mako what’s upset him, but his first attempt at speech sends fire searing up his throat. He coughs reflexively, which is its own particularly sadistic brand of torture. Each harsh expulsion of breath sends a dozen white hot knives to jab him in the ribs. He gasps, coughs, gasps again, an arm coming up to wrap protectively around his midsection.

“Hey, hey, easy.” A gloved hand reaches out to shake his arm, gently insisting on his attention. “In and out, it’ll pass. Here, watch me.”

Bolin does his best to focus as Mako demonstrates long slow pulls through his nose and out his mouth, golden eyes as unwavering as they’ve always been. In their early days of street life, episodes similar to this had came more frequently than he'd like to admit and he can feel that familiar sense of panic churning in his stomach now. In a flash, Bolin is a frightened six year old fighting for breath once again, mimicking his brother’s motions between spasms like a lifeline. _Look, Bo. You’re breathing like a firebender. Just like me._

“Yeah, you got it,” Mako soothes, coaxing him back to the present. “Keep going just like that.”

It takes no small amount of willpower with his chest muscles seizing rebelliously against him but he slowly, mercifully regains control. Wincing, he leans back into the pillows and finds that whatever energy he’d had moments ago has been abruptly sapped. His head is throbbing, his chest burns. Another nap would probably help with that...

“Hey.” Mako pats his cheek firmly, startling him from the alluring grasp of slumber. “You with me?”

Bolin blinks blearily, inhaling in an attempt to will some vigor into his bones. He tries again, hoarse but audible at least. “With’you.”

With a final tap, Mako withdraws and presents him instead with a waxy paper cup. Bolin crinkles his nose, eyeing its contents with a misplaced caution kindly provided by his still-foggy brain.

”It’s just water," Mako supplies. “I’ll hold it, just go slow.”

As a grown man he's a bit mortified at the thought of needing his brother's assistance for such a mundane task, but he sidelines the thought upon realizing just how parched he is. The tepid liquid simultaneously soothes and stings but it doesn’t matter, he gulps it down as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. A pitiful whimper slips through his lips as Mako pulls the glass away before he’s had his fill. 

“You can have more in a bit. Otherwise you’re gonna puke all over me,” he says. As he returns the cup to its tray, Mako releases a breath as though he’s been holding onto it for days. “It’s really good to have you back.”

Bolin hums. “Been a while?”

“Yeah, it has,” Mako replies. “We missed you here.”

At this, Bolin allows his gaze to wander the room, busying himself with gauging just where exactly _here_ is. It isn’t unusual for either of them to need a moment to gather their bearings upon waking. They’ve called so many places home over the years, sometimes it took them a moment to recall exactly which chapter of life they were currently living in. This place, however, is dull and white and entirely foreign to him. 

“We're in the hospital,” Mako informs him and Bolin lifts his brows, now noting the medical equipment that’s been obscured just behind him. “Everyone else is alright, don’t worry.”

In spite of their pro-bending, bad-guy-punching lifestyles, he can’t recall a time he’s stepped beyond the waiting room of a hospital before. Strike that, he’d made it into the hallway when Mako was being treated for the burn on his arm before a gaggle of nurses had all but manhandled him back out. Prior to that, every broken bone or upset stomach they’d faced as kids always had to be cured with whatever they had available to them, which was usually just patience and tenacity. That sentiment had carried over into adulthood though he isn’t quite sure why, money is far less of an issue to them these days. On a personal level, his deep disdain for needles might also have something to do with it. Even the IV line nestled in the crook of his elbow is giving him the heebie-jeebies. But that’s neither here nor there.

Steeling himself, his gaze finally wanders down to investigate further and suddenly it all makes much more sense, while also making no sense at all. Though he’s shirtless, a web of crisp bandages have more or less done the job just as well. He’s wrapped tightly from waist to shoulder, shoulder to wrist and the skin that does peek out is spattered with purple and red and yellow. A hard plaster cast encases his left forearm, which is drawn to his chest in a sling while his lower half remains obscured by a starchy white sheet.

“Yeah,” Mako mutters as though reading his thoughts. “You took a pretty nasty beating. We were worried for a while.”

“We? Who else is here?”

“Well, me obviously. Korra and Asami have been by a lot. Opal-“

“Opal! Is she here too?” Mako raises a brow at his brief resurgence of vigor and Bolin clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, uh... You know. That’s cool if she isn’t.”

“You just missed her actually. We finally convinced her to grab a shower and some real food, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Mako says. “She’s hardly left your side since you got here.”

Bolin smiles, warmth creeping into his cheeks. 

“I wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself there, bro,” he advises. “They don’t care much for privacy in these places, if you catch my drift.”

Bolin’s eyes widen to saucers, his blush deepening as his imagination begins to formulate the horrifying possibilities.

Mako chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. The things she’s seen, and she still sticks around? That’s how you know she’s a keeper.”

“Yeah,” he sighs wistfully. “She really is.”

They drift into a brief lull and his eyelids seize the opportunity to grow heavy again. In an attempt to further distance himself from slumber, he plants his palms beneath him, pushes against the mattress and _nope! Bad idea, bad idea!_ Jolts of agony bloom suddenly out from his center like a fire eating away at a forest. Bolin reclines again in a feeble attempt to alleviate it but it only serves to make it worse. It extends down his back and through his limbs jealously, pulling a soft groan through his lips. 

“What‘s wrong?” Mako asks, nearly jumping to his feet. “Are you in pain, should I call the nurse?”

Bolin shakes his head, unenthused with the idea of being prodded and fussed over before it’s absolutely necessary. “Can you help me sit up?” It’s another blow to his pride but he knows Mako would never judge him for it, not really. They’ve been through too many awkward situations together to pay it more than a thought. Soon his brother has him in a sitting position, reclined only slightly and mercifully alleviating some of the pressure against his ribs.

”Better?”

Bolin nods, leaning back with a wince. “So, are you gonna tell me why I look like I lost a fight with a roll of toilet paper?”

At this, firebender sighs deeply and sweeps a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “It’s because you’re an idiot.” 

Bolin blinks. “Well, sure. But I still don’t-“

Mako silences him with a wave of his hand. “Let’s start with you. You think you can tell me what you remember?" 

A bit uncertainly, he bobs his head and begins to dig deep. The persistent fog that has settled over his brain allows only brief glimpses of what he can hardly decipher between reality and fabrication, so he digs deeper. It takes him a moment, but his nostrils begin to twitch at the faint smell of smoke.

“Oh, oh! Fire!" he blurts out a bit too excitedly. "Wasn’t... Wasn’t there a fire? Or did I dream that?" 

Mako frowns. "I wish that you had.”

•••

_"A little hustle, people!"_

__

__

_The heat was oppressive, overwhelming even for Mako who barely flinched on days you could otherwise fry an egg on the street. Black smoke billowed through the halls, barely kept at bay by the avatar’s periodic blasts of air. Sweat had soaked his clothes through. His nose stung fiercely, his eyes watered, his chest burned. If you’d told him that this was what hell was like, he wouldn’t have batted an eye._

__

__

_As they reached the ground floor, Korra swept away some rubble with a stomp of her foot and a wave of her fist, clearing the exit for their newest group of soot-coated tenants. Mako peered through the consequential surge of smoke to find Bolin exactly where they’d left him, his arms strained overhead against the weight of the many floors above them, his feet planted firmly into the ground. Mako had no small amount of faith in his little brother to keep the place from collapsing on their heads, but the toll was becoming painfully evident._

__

__

_“Take your time, don't mind me," Bolin called out as people hurried around him like a river around a rock. "Just a guy trying to keep us all from being horribly crushed to death. Ma’am, did you remember to grab your keys? Your wallet? Okay, good, good. This is fine! Totally normal day for Team Avatar!”_

__

__

_Mako, a longtime expert in ignoring his brother’s incessant chatter, turned to Korra. “We can’t keep this up much longer. Where the hell is Beifong?”_

__

__

_“I don’t know,” she replied, “but we can’t exactly wait around for her.”_

 _The process of evacuating the overcrowded building had been taxing work, and far less organized than Mako would have preferred. While the bulk of the tenants had been successfully led to safety, it seemed that with each group came a new mission, frantic cries of another forgotten child or grandmother on the highest floor that had yet to be accounted for._

_Like clockwork, a middle-aged man stumbled forward and grasped Korra by the arms, crinkled eyes weathered and wild._

_“My daughter, I don’t see her!” he cried. “She’s still up there!”_

__

__

_“Ugh, what is it with you people?!” he roared, the limits of his patience having finally been reached. "Keep tabs on your children, man!”_

__

_The man merely blinked, stunned at his outburst until Korra stepped forth to intercede, laying a gentle hand on the man’s arm._

_”We’ll bring back your daughter, sir. I promise,” she assured, turning him around. "You go join the others."_

__

__

_"Seventh floor! Third door on the left!" he called over his shoulder. "Thank you, avatar!”_

__

__

_Sharing a troubled look and wasting little time, they plunged back through the veil of dust and smoke._

 _“Bolin! How’re you holding up?” Korra called, cringing as Mako turned to shoot her a glare for her poor choice of words. Bolin, however, hardly seemed to notice._

__

_“Doing great! These are-ugh...” As if to dispute his claim, the building chose that moment to shudder violently, pulling a deep groan from the earthbender contending with it. “...These are manly tears!”_

__

__

_“Look, this place is gonna come down soon,” Mako stated, turning to Korra. “We can’t keep making trips like this.”_

__

__

_"Well if you have a better suggestion I’d love to hear it!” As she spoke, she thrust her fists into the air, pulling up stone pillars where the ceiling sagged although they seemed to be crumbling as quickly was reforging them. “Bolin, what if I tag in here and you can go upstairs with Mako?”_

__

__

_The earthbender shook his head, sweat sliding down his temple. “Bad plan. Too unstable. Gotta stay here.”_

_“I’ll just go up by myself,” Mako said simply. “You stay here and help Bolin.”_

_While in his mind the decision has been final, a hand snagged his elbow before he managed a second step for the stairwell._

_“You can’t move all of that rubble by yourself. And come to think of it, unless you can suddenly learn how to airbend all of that smoke, you’re gonna suffocate up there.” She raked an apprehensive hand through her hair, drawing sooty streaks onto her forehead. “I really don’t think we have many options, here.”_

_“Not trying to... be a pain here,” Bolin wheezed, “but can we hurry this up?”_

_“We have to go, Mako, come on.”_

 _“I’ll be fine,” he persisted. “Bolin’s about to drop, you have to stay here with him-”_

__

__

_“Mako, I can do this!” Bolin snapped impatiently. “Just trust me and go!”_

_At this, Mako’s retort froze in his throat. The terseness with which Bolin spoke, though warranted, was already uncharacteristic enough. But beneath the physical strain there seemed to lay an entirely different sort of desperation. A plea for his big brother’s faith. Mako’s fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t about faith, didn't Bolin know that? Why couldn’t he understand that leaving him again was simply too much to ask? That the risk was too great?_

__

_Though it seemed he didn’t have much of a choice._

_The firebender turned as an olive hand came up to rest upon his shoulder._

_“Mako, it really is our only option," Korra reminded him softly. "Just one more sweep, we’ll be thorough. But we have to go. Right now."_

_“Fine,” he conceded, turning back to his brother as they started for the stairs. “Just... make sure you keep this place off of all our heads, would you?”_

__

_Contrary to his voluble tendencies, Bolin spared only a small nod in reply._

__

__

_They'd need to be fast. Very fast._

__

__

•••

"Ah, yes." With a haughty smirk, Bolin flexes his bicep beneath the bandages. "Holding up a burning building to save the innocent civilians, how very strong and heroic of me." 

The elder of the two rolls his eyes, lips twitching upward in spite of himself. 

"It also explains why my entire body feels like jelly.”

Mako's grin fades. ”Yeah, well. That's not the only reason."

•••

_Mako reached out to suppress a rogue ribbon of flame from their path. Beside him, Korra did her best with the limbs she had to spare to bend a tunnel of wind through the smoke, her cropped hair whipping her face. In the hunt for the child that currently clung to her hip, they’d also stumbled across a elderly man who'd been trapped in his apartment, now slumped unconscious on Mako's back. But by the way the floor quaked beneath them, they could only hope that no others remained._

_As they finally emerged on the ground floor, Mako’s heart leapt into his throat. Bolin’s head hung low between his arms, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps. The intense pressure had forced his feet down into the floor, digging twin pits in the concrete._

_But the building still stood._

__

__

_“Bolin!” Mako called, fretfully noting the crisp tear tracks carved in the soot on his brother’s face as he lifted his head. "Get ready to bail!”_

__

__

_Green eyes flashed with relief and he adjusted his hold as meticulously as if he were diffusing a bomb, preparing for what would certainly need to be a quick exit. As a result, a portion of the ceiling began to crumble and a soft cry sounded from a closet at the far corner of the room, now trapped behind the newly-formed rubble. Mako froze, sharing a stunned glance with Korra. A second cry, a bit louder this time._

_Spirits, they'd passed that door a half-a-dozen times. How in the world had they missed someone?_

__

_Nearby, Bolin groaned his frustration and planted his feet once more into the ground, a trickle of blood slithering ominously from his nose._

_Shaken from their stunned reverie, Korra surged forward into action, halted only by Mako’s firm grip on her arm. “You’ve gotta get the others away from here,” he said. “I’ve got this one!”_

__

_A beat of hesitation, but with a dutiful nod she disappeared through the veil._

__

__

_Served by protective instinct and a fresh surge of adrenaline, Mako could not recall a time he'd moved so fast. Skidding to a halt, he began making quick work of the rubble that blocked the door, more debris falling to swiftly replace whatever he cleared away._

_Nearby, Bolin made a choked noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Bro, you gotta hurry!"_

_Roaring with frustration, he stepped back and unleashed a powerful blast of flame that effectively incinerated everything in his path. With the door finally unbarred, he wrenched it open to find a small black-haired boy sitting curled on the floor, pinned by a smoldering beam that had fallen on his legs. Mako felt something stir as tearful eyes stared up at him, but he quickly shoved it to the back of his mind. Quickly, he knelt down to grasp the wood and lifted with everything he had, a pained groan slipping between his teeth. While grateful for the protection of his gloves, he’d have been surprised if he still had fingerprints after this._

_As soon as an opening allowed, the boy scurried out from beneath his prison and Mako quickly gathered him in his arms. Suddenly, another crash sounded and he stumbled back as the ceiling splintered open even wider, a tongue of fire sweeping down to lick at their faces. The boy screamed, shielding himself as Mako splayed out a hand to command the flames._

_Suddenly, the very earth beneath them seemed to thunder. Louder and longer and deeper than ever._

_“Mako!” came his brother’s frantic cry. “Get out of here, now! Now!”_

_He faltered. “W-what-“_

_“Now!”_

_The moments following passed by in a blur as the earthbender broke his stance to slam a heel into the ground with an excruciated roar. Suddenly Mako found himself being propelled outside where he and the child landed in a rolling heap, the breath knocked clean from his lungs. The world spun mercilessly around him as scrambled to his hands and knees, a visceral panic buzzing in his skull as he frantically searched the vicinity for his kin with no avail._

_He had to get up._

_He had to get back inside._

_He had to get his little brother to safety at any cost._

_But his time had run out. With a great, final shudder the building began to fall, and piercing through the dust came a scream that was swiftly silenced by rubble and ruin._

_And in that fleeting moment, Mako’s entire world had shattered._

__

_**”BOLIN!”** _

__

__

•••

Mako clenches his right hand into a fist. Unclenches it. 

“So did you get everyone?”

He blinks. “What?”

“The apartments,” Bolin clarifies simply, “did you and Korra get everyone else out before it went down?”

“Oh. Yeah, we got everyone.”

Bolin smiles, though whatever weight that is lifted by the news is swiftly replaced by the pained expression on his brother’s face.

“So, then what happened? I think I blacked out after that,” he fibs, paling at the memory of darkness and terror and unbelievable pain but decides to leave that part out for Mako’s sake. “Sorry.”

In the silence that follows, Bolin feels something familiar prickling at the base of his neck, doesn’t quite like the way Mako's leg is bouncing incessantly or how he refuses to meet his eyes. He's seen that look before. It’s not a good look. It’s a look he reserves for only the worst news. 

"Mako... is there something you want to tell me?"

The firebender chews his lip, managing to nod but contradicting it with his continued silence.

An anxious laugh bubbles in his chest. “Alright, you’re starting to freak me out. Just tell me.”

“Well,” he begins. “It took us a while to get to you. There was so much stuff on top of you and by the time we dug you out..." He pauses with a huff. “Look, I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to say it. You were... we lost you for a while." 

“Yeah,” says Bolin slowly, raising a brow. “You just said that-" 

"No. We _lost you._ You were gone.”

Still finding himself a bit perplexed, Bolin chuckles nervously. “You make it sound like I was dead or something.”

Golden eyes meet his own sharply.

Bolin blinks.

”...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He blinks again. And again.

“... Like _dead_ dead?”

Mako nods numbly, his eyes seeming to glaze over.

“Korra managed to bring you back,” he explains. “I don't know how she did it, some avatar spirit world nonsense. But even after that it was bad for a while, really bad. You were alive, but we didn’t know if you’d ever wake up.”

Thick ebony brows have made their home in his hairline as he processes this information, gazing into space. 

“Wow, that really was some nap.”

Mako exhales as though he wants to laugh. “Yeah.”

“But... I‘m okay now,” he says, youthful optimism ever present. "I woke up, so... Why do you still look so sad?"

The firebender opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again.

In spite of the horrendous amount of dread coiling in his stomach, he gathers his courage. “Mako.”

“I-I... There’s... There’s a chance that some of the stuff you’re going to have to deal with is going to be permanent,” he blurts finally. Like vomit.

Bolin swallows.

“...What does that mean?”

Mako shuts his eyes, forcing the words out like they pain him. "There was a lot of damage, Bo. They said we’re lucky they didn’t have to amputate anything, but... They aren’t sure if you’ll be able to move around like you used to. Or how it’s going to affect your bending.”

And for a moment, Bolin forgets how to breathe again.

"But listen," Mako quickly continues, scooting forward in his chair. "Listen, listen, they don't know anything for sure yet, they're gonna want to run all sorts of tests now that you're awake. If you ask me, you'll be walking out that door and chucking rocks good as new in no time and we'll all have worried for nothing. I'm the expert on that, right? Worrying for nothing?”

It occurs to him that some manner of response is expected, so he nods.

"I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now. But you're gonna be okay, I promise. I'm gonna make sure of it."

Bolin clears his throat. "Yeah, I know that. You're... You're right. I'll find another way to...” he trails off, swiping at the moisture pooling in his eyes. “If Toph can do it blind... That’s fine. It will be fine." 

“If it ends up being bad, I’m gonna take you to the South Pole,” Mako says. “Master Katara is willing to work with you after you heal up a bit more and if there's anyone that could help, it's her.”

Bolin bobs his head numbly. "Sure, that... sounds good."

“Bolin?”

“Hmm?”

Mako gapes at him for a moment, looking much like a fish out of water. When he finally speaks, he sounds strained. Like an invisible hand has tightened around his throat.

”I am... _so_ sorry,” he nearly whispers. “I’m sorry I let this happen. I’m sorry I went back up there when I knew... I knew I was asking too much of you. I keep thinking that I could have been faster, or smarter or... I don't know, just done something different. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s my job to keep you safe and I just...” 

He blinks rapidly, a jeweled tear clinging to his lashes.

“I’m just sorry.”

Bolin merely blinks. He’s someone who rarely finds himself at a loss for words. In fact, he’s half-convinced that if he’ll awaken any minute to find himself back in his apartment, that this has all just been a dream. A strange, incredibly realistic dream. Pabu must have fallen asleep on his face again, that must be it. Oxygen deprivation does some crazy things to your head.

But the sense of shame hovering over his brother is undeniable, tangible. Like a swirling storm cloud.

“What... are you _talking about?“_ he finally manages, his own fears momentarily forgotten. “You’ve always kept me safe. I'd have been a goner, like, a billion years ago if it weren't for you.”

"That doesn't matter now.”

"It does matter-“

"No. You're not getting it," interjects Mako sharply, slamming a fist down to the mattress. "You were gone. _Gone._ You don’t understand how close it was...” he trails off, growling and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “There’s no way you can ever trust me to have your back again. You should never forgive me for this. You should _hate_ me for this, Bolin. I’ve... I’ve completely failed you.”

A jolt of pain having nothing to do with his physical wounds ripples through Bolin’s chest. 

"That's... That’s not true,” he quietly contests. "That’s not true. You could never fail me. Never."

Mako shakes his head, gaze trained on the floor.

For as long as Bolin can remember, he has assumed Mako was born for the role of The Protector. This theory had only been further proven by his chosen vocation. Though it’s always been easy to envision his brother as his own personal superhero, Bolin is less a slave to naivety every day. Now, it’s abundantly clear that the weight he’s been bearing upon his shoulders all these years has exacted a heavy toll.

In spite of himself, a tear scurries down his cheek, but he sets his jaw and swipes it away.

“Alright, look,” he says sternly. “I know I've been out for a while and you've been probably spiraling about this for days or weeks or however long it’s been- we should talk about that, by the way- but let me set you straight, here.” 

Ignoring the fact that Mako still won't meet his eyes, he continues.

"I know there’s a part of you that is always gonna see me as a little kid that needs your protection, and I’ll always be grateful for it. But I’m not a helpless little kid anymore. My choices are my own, and I'll be the one to take responsibility for them.” Bolin’s heart stutters with emotion, but he swallows it down. “I know you feel like you've failed me somehow and I think I get where that’s coming from. But it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Nothing has changed, not on my end. You ask me to trust you all the time, but now I need you to trust me.”

Golden eyes finally, tentatively lift to meet his own though only for a brief moment. 

"Listen,” he continues, his tone softening. “Don't get me wrong, I'll always need my big brother. You have no idea how grateful I am for you and all you've sacrificed for me. But I don't want us to be seventy years old and you still carrying that around." At this, he spikes up his hair and puts on his best impression of an elderly Mako. _"Bo, have you taken your old-man medication today? No? Bolin, don't make me come over there._ And then you do come over, but you're all old and crotchety and I’ve been keeping myself spry over the years so you can't keep up with me."

Mako exhales sharply. It's likely the closest thing to a laugh that Bolin will get from him right now, and he's content with that. 

"I can't promise that I won't still bug you about your old-man medication," he says softly.

"I'll allow that,” he agrees. “Look, I know you’ll always be looking out for me and I have your back too, just... try to stop blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault, alright? You can't put that kind of pressure on yourself, and I wouldn't want you to.“

Mako gives a small nod and something between a laugh and a sob stutters out from deep in his chest. “Man. When did you... I don’t know, grow up?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Fair enough.” The tentative smile on Mako’s face falters. “But how is all of this just... okay with you? Aren’t you upset or angry? Or at least scared?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it _okay_ ,” he admits, his belly fluttering uneasily at the reminder. "But like you said, we don’t know anything for certain, and I’ve always been lucky.”

Mako snorts.

”It’s true.” He contests. ”And either way, we saved a lot of people from that building, you know? If we hadn't hung around, we would have missed that kid and at the end of the day, I've still got breath in my lungs and he may not have. That's a start, right?”

A slight twitch in the corner of Mako’s lips, and that’s a start too.

“Alright, I’d like you to come hug me now.” Bolin says, extending his good arm out. “Just go easy on the goods.”

Needing no more convincing, Mako mindfully seats himself on the bed and scoops him up much like when they were children. Bolin smiles fondly as he presses his face into his brother’s shoulder, drawing in the familiar scent of smoldering sage and cedarwood. It’s the same cologne Mako has used since he was fourteen, when Bolin had managed to lift it out of the snooty department store on Fifth for his birthday. As the years passed, the scent became synonymous with a great many things: safety and comfort, security and warmth.

More than anything, however, it became synonymous with _home._

"I’m gonna get us through this,” Mako murmurs softly into his hair. "I'm gonna make sure you're alright. I promise." 

Bolin inhales deeply, and smiles.

“I know.”

•••


End file.
